


Phoenix

by Katuary



Series: Rose and Thorn [6]
Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age - All Media Types, Dragon Age: Origins
Genre: Canonical Character Death, Dragon Age: Origins Quest - The Landsmeet, Dueling, Duelling, F/M, Politics, Scheming
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-21
Updated: 2020-08-21
Packaged: 2021-03-05 19:48:13
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,515
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25520854
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Katuary/pseuds/Katuary
Summary: “This was the real moment of truth. Everything she'd worked for. Every sacrifice she'd made, every alliance she'd forged, every enemy she'd slain, it all came down to this. Had she done enough to sway the Landsmeet to her will?”
Relationships: Alistair/Female Cousland (Dragon Age)
Series: Rose and Thorn [6]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1510469
Kudos: 11





	Phoenix

**Author's Note:**

> Highly recommend Dessa's "5 out of 6" for this one. 
> 
> Warning for lots of in-game dialogue (mostly to contextualize where we are in the Landsmeet).

Anora would be a perfectly acceptable queen to the nobility. _Biddable_ , as she herself liked to put it. A solid diplomat, intelligent and well-educated, cunning enough to change minds without those minds feeling pressure. She reminded Elissa much of herself. 

But she had allowed Fereldan citizens to be sold into slavery in her own capital. Allowed her father power he didn't warrant. Further, she would never suffer competition, oaths of fealty or no. Eamon had told her how singularly focused Anora had been on rescuing _her_ from Fort Drakon; she had slipped and failed to mention Alistair entirely.

Perhaps it wouldn't be an execution at the Landsmeet. That would make her appear too cold. But Alistair was a Grey Warden. Wardens weren't known for their long lifespans, and no one would suspect an assassin who operated with an ounce of subtlety. Elissa would be unable to fend them off forever.

There was also no value in true honesty. If Elissa declared her intentions against Anora openly before the Landsmeet, Anora would simply say the Wardens had imprisoned her against her will and throw her support to her father.

Again, though, Anora was no fool. Anora didn't believe Elissa foolish either. She would never trust an immediate promise of support from her. Anora must be convinced such a promise was negotiated, a sacrifice.

She thought she had her cornered, but Elissa manipulated everyone's pain points, including her own. 

This could work.

* * *

“Warden.”

Ser Cauthrien was her first obstacle. Her sword remained sheathed at her back, and the lieutenant approached them without so much as a movement toward her weapon. So she intended to persuade them; fighting was a last resort.

“I am not surprised it has come to this." Cauthrien turned her gaze from Elissa, tone admonishing, "And Alistair. If you were even remotely worthy of being called Maric's son, you would already be in the Landsmeet now, wouldn't you?"

Her reproachful glare fixed once again on Elissa, who kept her expression carefully impassive. "You have torn Ferelden apart to oppose the very man who ensured you were born into freedom." Her face hardened. "But do not think you will get past me to desecrate the Landsmeet itself. The nobles of Ferelden will confirm my lord as regent, and we can finally put this to rest." She narrowed her eyes in obvious threat. "Once you are gone."

Did she truly think that would be effective simply because Elissa had surrendered to her once? A tactical surrender was a different beast than full defeat. Cauthrien had expected battle before, and Elissa had refused to engage. She expected it again, or perhaps another surrender, but Elissa would offer only empathy. She creased her brow in concern,

"Do you truly not see what Loghain has become?"

Cauthrien was immediately stricken. Good.

"I have had...so many doubts of late. Loghain is a great man, but his hatred of Orlais has driven him to madness." Her voice wavered. Elissa knew that was no act. "He has done terrible things, I know it, but I owe him everything. I cannot betray him...do not ask me to!"

"Then let me stop him." Elissa paused, giving her gentle prodding a moment to sink in. "You know it's the only way."

"I never thought duty would taste so bitter." Cauthrien relented and stepped to one side, freeing the path to the chamber doors. "Stop him, Warden. Stop him from betraying everything he once loved." She knelt on the stones, defeated. "Please...show mercy. Without Loghain, there would be no Ferelden to defend."

Elissa nodded, but made no guarantees. She had made enough false promises to get here.

* * *

They entered the main chamber of the Landsmeet to the tune of Loghain's accusations.

"You would attempt to put a puppet on the throne and every soul here knows it. The better question is, 'Who will pull the strings?'"

The crowd parted for Elissa’s party, and Loghain’s eyes immediately snapped to her steady glare. He continued his speech, clearly reenergized by the arrival of a new target.

"Ah! And here we have the puppeteer. Tell us, Warden: how _will_ the Orlesians take our nation from us? Will they deign to send their troops, or simply issue their commands through this would-be prince?" 

Such theatrics. Clearly no one had taught him how to control a non-military crowd.

"What did they offer you?” he continued, “How much is the price of Fereldan honor now?"

 _First, use honor and country._ Elissa shrugged, keeping her sharp gaze on her opponent, "The fallen of Ostagar would love to hear your fee, I'm sure."

Loghain was robbed the chance of an immediate retort by Arl Bryland, "Some of us are curious, Loghain, about precisely what happened at Ostagar."

"So one of Cailan's killers would dare speak of betrayal?” Loghain scoffed. “You led our King to his death with your grandiose tales of griffons flying into battle."

 _Still fixated, I see._ She ignored his volley, plucking her next verbal arrow from its quiver with a calm smile. _Nobility, now. They will care for little else._ "You allowed Rendon Howe to imprison and torture innocents."

"The Warden speaks truly!" Bann Sighard called, "My son was taken under cover of night. The things done to him...some of them are beyond any healer's skill."

"Howe was responsible for himself,” Loghain dismissed, “He will answer to the Maker for any wrongs committed in this life. As must we all." He paused, and Elissa knew exactly what he planned next. "But you know that. _You_ were the one who murdered him. Whatever Howe may have done, he should have been brought before the seneschal. There is no justice in butchering a man in his home."

 _Rich coming from you. Twice over._ Weak bait, bitten only in her mind. "No?" She arched a brow, continuing mercilessly, "Then why did you send a blood mage to poison Arl Eamon?"

"I assure you, Warden, if I were going to send someone, it would be my own soldiers. I would not trust to the discretion of an apostate."

 _Ah, yes. Say how you_ would _send an assassin. Make the act seem more plausible from you._

"Indeed?" Bann Alfstanna asked dryly, "My brother tells a very different tale. He says you snatched a blood mage from the Chantry's justice. Coincidence?"

Grand Cleric Elemena scowled and shook her head before Loghain could respond. “Do not think the Chantry will overlook this, Teyrn Loghain,” she warned, "Interference in a templar's sacred duties is an offense against the Maker."

"Whatever I have done, I will answer for later." His dismissive tone belied his disquiet. Further chinks in his armor. Elissa resisted the urge to smile as he continued, predictable as ever, "At the moment, however, I wish to know what this Warden has done with my daughter."

Elissa scoffed. "What have _I_ done?" She shook her head, tuning her disgust to an acceptable scowl, "I've protected her from _you._ "

"You took my daughter--our Queen--by force, killing her guards in the process. What arts have you employed to keep her? Does she even still live?"

"I believe I can speak for myself."

 _Anora. Exactly on cue._ She strode behind the gathered guards with all the confidence of a general witnessing her enemy's retreat. Assured of victory, suspecting nothing. 

"Lords and ladies of Ferelden, hear me. My father is no longer the man you know. This man is not the hero of River Dane." The sorrow on Anora's face was genuine, Elissa was sure. That said, any noble worth her title knew to play into the expected narrative, to fill an archetypal role so those you sought to convince could easily complete the intended details on their own. 

Anora turned her mournful gaze to her father, unflinching in the face of his shock, “This man turned his troops aside and refused to protect your King as he fought bravely against the darkspawn. This man seized Cailan's throne before his body was cold and locked me away so I could not reveal his treachery. I would have already been killed, if not for this Grey Warden."

Every damsel in distress needed a valiant knight.

"The Queen speaks the truth,” Elissa agreed, nodding solemnly.

"So the Warden's influence has poisoned even your mind, Anora?" Loghain bowed his head and sighed. "I wanted to protect you from this."

Loghain was cornered and much more unpredictable and dangerous than free-roaming prey. It was unclear whether he was genuinely affected or maneuvering the situation to his advantage. Elissa suspected a mixture of the two.

Loghain turned back to the nobility and clerics gathered in the balconies, hands outstretched beseechingly as he tried a final rally, "My lords and ladies, our land has been threatened before. It's been invaded, and lost, and won times beyond counting. We Fereldans have proven that we will never truly be conquered so long as we are united. We must not let ourselves be divided now. Stand with me, and we shall defeat even the Blight itself."

Pretty words, but she had perforated enough of his arguments to sow doubt. 

The votes fell entirely in Elissa’s favor, with the exception of Bann Ceorlic. Close as his lands fell to Gwaren, it was no surprise. Still, it left a sour taste in her mouth to see a grown man grovel so blatantly. Lickspittle coward. 

No matter. Nearly unanimous. Elissa inclined her head civilly. "The Landsmeet is against you, Loghain. Step down gracefully."

Of course, it was never destined to be so simple. Loghain ranted and raved, declaring the entire Landsmeet to be traitors, mocking the possibility of Alistair inheriting the throne, and pointing most of his vitriol squarely at Elissa. She was tempted to indulge his goading for unrestrained violence--she _did_ have the vast majority swayed to her side after all--but she had an image to maintain. She was the voice of reason, the knight in shining armor, the steadfast hero. A tight smile bared her teeth.

"Call off your men," she told him, "and let us settle this honorably."

* * *

A duel was a dance. Elissa took the brief moment while space cleared to size up her partner.

Imposing, steady-handed, still wearing the armor he’d donned in legendary battles against Orlais. A man who valued familiarity infinitely more than risking change. The armor bore scars both old and new. Still in fighting shape, despite being absent from the front for the past year. 

A formidable opponent. But age and heavy plate would slow him. Anger would bleed his focus. Betrayal would blunt his senses.

She was ready.

Everything fell away but her and her target. For the next handful of minutes, nothing else in the world mattered. She could afford no distractions.

He drew his blade and she drew hers, activating the lightning rune on the longsword with a practiced flick of her thumb.

As he charged, she smashed a vial of concentrated deathroot extract along her dagger, coating the blade in sickly green. The fumes made Loghain falter, just enough so she could dart to the right and strike the crease of his arm as he passed. He swung his heavy blade at her in retaliation, but she was already at his other side, nicking his opposite hand with her dagger.

The dance continued. He scored a few glancing blows, but she rolled away from the strikes each time and returned her own surgical cuts. Heavy armor was formidable, but it needed openings to allow movement. At the neck, at each major joint and curve. No need to chase a jugular when she could bleed her opponent dry in a thousand wounds.

Still, Elissa wouldn't be able to last forever. Most of Loghain’s heavy blows hadn't broken her skin, but several had landed with enough blunt force to bruise her to the bone. She needed to end this before she lost the advantage of speed.

She took the next hit on the defensive, allowing her the chance to evaluate the damage she’d dealt. He was slower than before, favoring his left hand which festered from the potent coating on her blade. 

He drove toward her again, single-minded, determined to end this.

Impatient.

Elissa feigned a stumble as he drew close, weakly parrying his blade with her dagger alone, and allowed the greatsword to slip into her thigh. Her strangled scream was hardly an exaggeration, and she fell to one knee.

She whipped her longsword in a neat arc and severed his hamstrings.

He collapsed, and she rose unsteadily to her good leg, bloodied blade tilted into the hollow of Loghain’s throat. She grit her teeth and narrowed her eyes,

”Yield.”

* * *

At Loghain’s surrender, Wynne was given leave to heal both combatants enough to keep them upright. Neither flinched. They had both had worse.

"I underestimated you, Warden. I thought you were like Cailan, a child wanting to play at war. I was wrong." Loghain rose from his knees, carefully testing his weight. "There's a strength in you that I have not seen anywhere since Maric died. I yield."

Yielding to her granted Elissa control over his fate. Only one answer made sense,

"You'll die for what you've done."

"Wait!” Elissa kept her focus on Loghain, but stayed her hand. Riordan continued to speak, an oddly amiable smile on his face as he came into her field of vision, “There is another option."

Alistair's skeptical expression matched hers to the pore, she was sure.

"The teyrn is a warrior and general of renown,” Riordan continued, “Let him be of use. Let him go through the Joining."

Any unexpected change in plans could derail her strategy entirely. Unease swelled in her gut, but Elissa kept her voice even, "You want to make him a Warden? Why?"

"There are _three_ of us in all of Ferelden. And there are..." Riordan hesitated, glancing at the dozens of nobles occupying the chamber, "...compelling reasons to have as many Wardens on hand as possible to deal with the Archdemon."

"The Joining itself is often fatal, is it not?" Anora broke in, "If he survives, you gain a general. If not, you have your revenge. Doesn't that satisfy you?"

“Absolutely not!” Alistair exploded, rounding on the senior Warden, “Riordan, this man abandoned our brothers and then blamed us for the deed! He hunted us down like animals. He tortured _you!_ How can we simply forget that?"

Alistair’s outburst could cost her. She needed to act decisively before the nobility could be swayed to mercy. 

"How can he be trusted not to betray us again?" Elissa agreed. She had no doubt he would, after the stunt she was planning. "No. Loghain has to die for his crimes."

"You can't do this!” Anora cried, “My father may have been wrong, but he is still a hero to the people."

"Anora, hush. It's over." Loghain was quietly resigned, a foil to the man who had rivaled Elissa mere minutes ago.

"Stop treating me like a child. This is serious."

Loghain smiled. It was the first time Elissa could remember seeing him do so. "Daughters never grow up, Anora," he said, "They remain six years old with pigtails and skinned knees forever."

Elissa's resolve wavered. Would her own father have thought that way, seeing her now? Exhausted, spattered with a man's blood, manipulating hearts and minds like an Orlesian bard? Would he be proud? Horrified? Would he still be able to see the scrappy pup he'd scolded for raiding the good cheese from the cellars? The energetic toddler he'd read to sleep with tales of daring until the moon rose? 

"Father--"

"Just make it quick, Warden. I can face the Maker, knowing that Ferelden is in your hands."

She did not have to admire the man to respect him. Elissa nodded, drawing her longsword. "Very well."

The crowd parted again. Elissa fixed her gaze briefly on Anora's pleading eyes, then focused on the task at hand. 

One clean swing, a few steps back to respect those who grieved, and it was over.

* * *

After a tactful recess to remove Loghain and clear the stones where he had lain, they reconvened.

"So it is decided," Eamon declared, "Alistair will take his father's throne."

"Wait, what?” Alistair paled. “No! When did this get decided? Nobody's decided that, have they?"

Anora's eyes were still reddened with grief, but that didn't stop her from twisting Alistair's words to her advantage. "He refuses the throne. Everyone here heard him. I think it's clear then, that he abdicates in favor of me."

Thankfully, Eamon interrupted before Alistair could readily accept that statement. "I hardly think you're the appropriate person to mediate this, Anora," he said dryly, turning to Elissa, "Warden, will you help us?"

_That would certainly solve a lot of problems, and put forth the strongest argument before the Landsmeet to remove Loghain from power._

_A union might be considered a compromise, but...is this something Alistair even desires?_

_Marrying Cailan's widow? How could she even...? No, never mind. I'm going to_ not _think about it now._

_So we have a deal, Warden. I trust you'll keep your end of the bargain._

This was the real moment of truth. Everything she'd worked for. Every sacrifice she'd made, every alliance she'd forged, every enemy she'd slain, it all came down to this. Had she done enough to sway the Landsmeet to her will?

"Yes," Elissa said clearly, "I can settle this."

Eamon inclined his head, a glint of cunning in his eye. "As the arbiter of this dispute, what is your decision? Who will lead Ferelden?"

"Alistair will be king," she declared, looking about the Landsmeet rather than meeting her fellow Warden’s eyes, "and I'll rule beside him."

"Really? You _will?"_ Alistair was still in shock. She couldn't blame him.

Eamon, however, proceeded with the formalities without missing a beat.

"Anora,” he said, “the Landsmeet has decided against you. You must now swear fealty to our King, and relinquish all claim to the throne for yourself and your heirs."

Anora's face hardened with brittle humor, "If you think I will swear that oath, Eamon, you know nothing of me."

"We cannot leave Ferelden in a state of civil war. We must have unity. If she will not swear fealty to you, Alistair, and renounce her claim to the throne, she is a threat to us all."

Alistair turned from Eamon to Elissa uncertainly, brows raised, "What do you want me to do, exactly? Kill her?” He winced. Elissa would have to teach him to mask himself. “I can't do that. I guess...put her in the tower, for now. Lock her up. Maybe we can find somewhere to send her. Later."

Anora frowned, her posture relaxing uncertainly. "Thank you, Alistair. You show me mercy that I...would not have shown you."

Anora met Elissa’s eyes once before guards escorted her from the room. She thought she caught a glimmer of understanding in the other woman’s face before she was taken away; acknowledgment of her critical mistake. 

Elissa didn’t particularly want the throne, but she shielded her own. 

* * *

After Alistair gave an...admittedly stumbling...speech to his new subjects, promising he would continue to fight the Blight and placing Eamon as temporary regent, she finally had a chance to speak with him alone. A meeting room several paces down from the main chamber. Not perfect, but she could hardly ask him to wait until they arrived back at Eamon's estate for a real explanation.

The poor man looked _beyond_ dazed when he shut the door behind them. "So...strange story," he started, "Tell me if you've heard this one: this fellow gets made King and then gets engaged all on the same night..."

Elissa leaned against the stone wall and suppressed a wince. "You're angry."

“And you’re still hurt.” He looked briefly around the room, frowning. “You should sit, but...”

”I’ll be fine. Wynne took the edge off. Nothing’s broken.” Though it very well might have been in the moment. She had certainly done that before. On the balance, she preferred a sword strike to being snapped in a dragon’s maw.

”Yes, because, as we all know, injuries don’t hurt unless they _break_ something.” His quip came much more heavily than usual. Forced. 

Elissa carefully shifted her weight to her uninjured leg. “I’ll manage. We needed to talk.” She locked eyes with him, waiting for the outburst she had earned. 

He didn’t shout, or say anything, for a long moment. When he did speak, it was with a heavy sigh,

"I'm not thrilled with the idea of being King. I never wanted it. I _told_ you that...yet here I am. Not much to be done now." He took her hands in his, but didn’t close the distance further. When he spoke again, his voice was softer, but no less hurt, “You told me you would support Anora.”

”I told her the same thing.” Elissa shrugged, “I had to make her believe me. She would have just claimed we held her hostage if I were honest.”

”So...you lied to everyone.”

His voice was hopeful; he was granting her an escape route. If she had lied to everyone, that would sting far less than excluding him from a group she entrusted with her secret.

Unfortunately, she had kept a confidant.

”No,” she answered bluntly, “Eamon knew. Not everything. But I told him supporting Anora was a ruse. That I intended to place you on the throne.”

“So that business with...” He winced, “...marrying me off to her...?”

“It kept Eamon satisfied. I couldn’t have him interfering...or proposing the idea himself. If the nobles got wind of a possible compromise, they would have insisted on taking it.”

”And you couldn’t say anything about this to _me_ because...?”

”I needed you to act naturally. You’re no politician—“

”—a _fantastic_ quality in a King-to-be, by the way—“

“—and I needed everything believable. Predictable. _One_ wrong step and...” Elissa took back her hands and clenched them into fists to quell their shaking. She needed a breath before she continued. She was fleetingly surprised as Alistair drew her into his arms, but melted against him almost immediately. He hated fighting; he never pressed when he saw her in pain.

“Liss,” he sighed, “You promised not to —”

”I didn’t leave you _behind_. I just—“

”Lied.”

”Yes.” She could hardly deny it. “It was politics. Scheming. Not a fight.”

”I have the strangest notion I might have to learn how to fight in a political sense sooner rather than later.”

”I know.” She sighed. “I’m sorry. You never wanted any of this, and if there was any other way...”

”Leaving Anora Queen was another way.”

”I don’t trust her,” she said flatly, “Respect her? Yes." She thought of the alienage and her lip twitched. "To an extent. But you saw what she said. If I’d chosen her, she would have had you executed then and there to remove any threats to the throne.”

"Ah. See, for a moment there, I thought you were going to say something silly like 'you'd be the better ruler.'" 

"You will be."

He chuckled. "You don't need to say that."

Elissa didn’t miss a beat. “I mean it. You have a kind heart, a strong sense of justice, and you would never stand for the abuses Anora allowed.”

”Well, it’s nice _you_ think so.”

She smiled affectionately and ran her fingers through his hair. “I _know_ so. And the rest of Ferelden won’t be far behind.” 

“And I suppose you’ll be hovering at my shoulder to tell me everything I’m doing wrong?”

”Aren’t I always?” Her smile faded. She shook her head. “You’re going to make mistakes. _We’re_ going to make mistakes. But that doesn’t make you wrong for the throne.”

”Well, when you’ve been told by nearly everyone you’re wrong for nearly _everything_ twenty years running—“

She cut him off with a kiss, soft, just at the corner of his mouth. “Trust me.”

”Hm. Now that depends.”

”Oh?”

”I’m adding political fighting to the list of things you’re not allowed to leave me out of.”

”I think the coronation solves that.”

”Don’t joke. I don’t want you getting hurt for me again.”

”We’re Wardens, Alistair,” she reminded gently, “I don’t know if I can make that promise.”

“Ah. Well. No more dueling on my behalf then.”  
  
She laughed weakly. “I can agree to that.” 

“Good.” He rested his forehead against hers, so delicately it seemed he believed she would break under further pressure. It didn’t escape her that his hands, resting at her hips, slightly lifted her from the ground. Elissa would find Wynne to finish her healing session the moment they set foot in the estate again.

After a long silence, Alistair pulled back with a cautious smile.

"I suppose I'm more curious about...” he started slowly, “you know, the engagement. I _like_ the idea, but...are you sure?”

For the first time that night, Elissa's response came without a conscious thought. "Am I sure I want to marry you? Yes."

He was dazed again, but a giddy smile dawned on his face she couldn’t help but return. “Oh. I guess that saves me having to ask then.”

He let out a relieved breath before his expression sobered. "They'll expect an heir, you know. With the taint in our blood, it's hard enough for a Grey Warden to have a child on their own. For two of them...?" He sighed. “Every Grey Warden I knew who had children had them before they took the Joining. Having an heir...might not be possible."

There it was. The one sticking point to her plan.

It certainly would have been more politically expedient to have him marry Anora, unite the supporters of both factions behind the throne, but Elissa's blood would cause very little controversy. The Couslands had been, after all, the second most powerful family in Ferelden, after the royal line. If Alistair had been raised from birth as an heir to the throne, she very well may have been betrothed to him when they were still children. 

But providing an heir...

What if it was impossible? What if _that_ drove the country back to civil war years down the line? She'd have no one to blame but herself. Foolish. Selfish. 

She couldn't help being human.

Elissa cracked a weak smile. "We can worry about that after we stop the Blight. Perhaps..." Perhaps having an heir wasn't necessary? After arguing Alistair's bloodline as a means to place him on the throne? She changed direction. "I suppose it won't be for lack of trying."

He clearly knew that was a poor deflection, but he let her get away with it. "That's an excellent point. Good thing we got started when we did, hm? I suppose this is something we'll just have to deal with later. My... _our_...coronation isn't going to happen for some time yet, and we've still got darkspawn to fight."

With the succession and treaties settled, the end seemed naively in sight. Elissa’s eyes glinted,

“Wouldn’t want to keep the Archdemon waiting.”

**Author's Note:**

> *Room Where it Happens/Razzle Dazzle intensifies*
> 
> Ever since I discovered you could lie to Anora about supporting her with zero repercussions, I abuse the _hell_ out of that in my playthroughs. Hey, saves me a battle, right?
> 
> And I really wish there was more dialogue with Alistair about the coming Landsmeet. I had to run a few alternate dialogue options to see what happened, and he is heartbreakingly easy to convince to marry Anora even in this situation.
> 
> Also, why the heck does Alistair have the post-Landsmeet conversation in front of _all_ the other companions? Give them some damned privacy, guys...especially when they're breaking up. Sweet Maker.


End file.
